Work Text:
There’s nothing like hurtling into the new year without the person you thought would always be by your side.
Subspace lay alone in the hospital bed. Everyone had gone home. There was a nurse or two roaming the halls, but other than that, nothing.
He still wasn’t used to the stinging pain. Of the loss, or of the acid? Was there a difference?
Bandages were wrapped around his arm, neck, and head; his long hair had been shaved off to prevent infection. He supposed it was for the better. Not like anyone was around to brush it for him.
He sighed, rolling his head back. He couldn’t quite open his mouth, and the oxygen tube in his nose itched. He turned to ask Medkit to adjust it.
Oh. Right.
Subspace let out a muffled groan. His face hurt. His scalp hurt. His eye socket hurt. He knew his depth perception would be forever skewed. He knew his work would be jeopardized. He knew that he would be half the man he was before.
The skin grafts that had been done burned. The doctors could only protect his scalp and neck. He didn’t have enough real skin left to protect anything else. He had been told that his skin seemed to be rotting. He couldn’t quite comprehend what that meant. But it sure as hell hurt.
If only SOMEONE was there to heal him!
As much as Subspace would have liked to be angry, the thing he felt the most was guilt. Because everything Medkit had said to him was true. He was right; Subspace was a truly awful, twisted individual with a lack of morals. And someone who had known him since they were newspawns would know that well. Would know him better than he knew himself.
He knew that he was bad; ethically speaking, he was straight up despicable. But the Superiors liked what he did. And when he was succeeding, he was glowing. And someone, anyone, thought that he was good enough.
Medkit seemed to have the best time when Subspace was out of work; when his designs had been rejected. He knew that Medkit took some sort of guilty pleasure in Subspace’s failure; his inability to cause harm.
That inability to cause harm was simply because he was failing. And failure came with consequences. He wished that Medkit knew that he needed that validation, needed that approval; and he would put anyone in harm’s way to get it. If he wasn’t useful, he was as good as dead. And not being useful led him to dark places.
Every time he had been reprimanded, told he was a failure, insufficient, he had spiraled down, down, down. And he always ended up bleeding in Medkit’s arms. And Medkit would comfort him, and rock him back and forth until he calmed down. And it felt like someone loved him.
Someone loved him. And he’d loved them too.
He’d felt as if Medkit loved him more when he’d hated himself.
Maybe he was a better person when he hated himself.
Grav and Warp, his only other friends, had delivered a telegram to the hospital, saying after what he did, they could no longer be friends with him. His entire support system, gone, because of one person.
Swords, it burned. He glanced around. There was a nurse on duty now, but he couldn’t reach the button to ring for them. It felt as if the universe was mocking him.
In their final moments together, when Subspace was writhing in agony on the lab floor, skin melting off, he didn’t mouth off like he usually did.
No. When he wasn’t screaming in pain, he was shrieking the same thing over and over.
“Don’t leave me here!”
“Don’t leave me here”.
The words rang in Medkit’s head. The memory was a blur, and he couldn’t remember which word had been emphasized.
He had been welcomed by a couple of very hospitable inphernals. They offered a spot in their place of worship for him to stay. He had thanked them over and over, insisting that he repay the favor someday. Now, he lay awake, eyelids still freshly stitched together. Nauseous and anxious. Thinking.
“Don’t leave me here!”
Almost a ‘don’t you dare’ statement. Warning him of what would happen if he left.
“Don’t leave me here!”
‘Help me. At least assist me before you flee.’ Almost mocking.
“Don’t leave me here!”
As if to say, ‘I never left you’. And it was true. Tripmine Subspace had been there every time that he needed it. Had his back every single time. Tied himself into knots to make sure Medkit was okay.
The last option was the most haunting. The one that left him with the most questions, the one that he heard echoing in the dead of night.
“Don’t leave me here.”
Don’t leave me in blackrock. Don’t leave me in this hellhole. Medkit thought he’d loved it there. He was always saying ‘glory to blackrock’ and ‘long live our nation’. He was as patriotic as one person could be. And yet…
It seemed to scream ‘take me with you’ like a bitter aftertaste. Just an undertone of desperation.
Tripmine Subspace was bitter, cold, and selfish. He was not sensitive or emotionally intelligent. He lacked any basic self awareness. Time and time again, he had taken advantage Medkit’s kindness. They had only become close because Tripmine Subspace was trying so hard to befriend him. And eventually he gave in.
Yes, there were fulfilling times. Years that he had felt blessed to spend together. Memories he treasured.
But they were all tainted by the sheer amount of pride that his former friend held.
And yet, it was possible that he had wanted to run with Medkit. Escape together.
Or maybe he was just angry.
Medkit stayed awake all night, replaying those words in his head.
Don’t leave me here.